Stigmata
by EchoCIDE
Summary: "As I looked into the eyes of the devil, I knew that I had already fallen too far to get back up alone." Claire/Wesker. Details inside. Should have upped it to M and didn't so...it is now..Better late than never..
1. Act I

_**A/N**__: Oh my gosh. Okay I know it has been a VERY long time since anyone has heard anything from me and it has been killing me inside...sorta...to have been out of contact with any of my readers or authors. My internet - due to severe financial issues - has not been in working order so I was trying to spend the time without any outside influences to begin work on the second installment to Vas Domus or at least Natural Selection. They were coming along...shall we say...slowly. One night I woke up, sleepless and bored, and began writing this. Come to find out I am a much better writer when I am writing from a first person standpoint. I haven't been wracked with that damn writer's block demon once since I began this story and the first part is well over 10,000 words in length, a freakin phenomenon for me. I wanted to post the first part while about halfway through the second part which I am. I hope everyone doesn't think I'm dead or something though haha. I can't believe that in a matter of days I had written something like this and I feel it to be much better than Vas Domus in great lengths. I feel personally compelled with this story because there wasn't any pressure like I had when writing Vas Domus. Don't ask why. This will probably consist of four parts, if I'm lucky, each amassing a decent length and most of the time will be told in Claire's point of view. Sometimes I may switch from first person Claire towards third person just for exposition's sake. I think it's important to clearly express what's going on outside of Claire's head as much as it is inside of her head. Don't worry, I'll find some way to transition over as to not confuse. Just remember, there will never be any other points of view other than first person Claire and third person. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as it comes along and I have decided to slip it into four very long parts because I know I will not be updating quickly what with my net situation. Please read and review and enjoy.  
><em>**  
><strong>_**DISCLAIMER:: I do not own Resident Evil or the characters, I only own my own sparsely used OCs and my plot bunny which can be a wicked and sometimes crazy muse. Do not sue me because chances are you won't get anything more than a pocketful of lint and a pack of Twizzlers. **_

...

**Stigmata**

**Act I**

...

_never _**[feared] **_for anything  
>never <em>**[shamed]**_but never free_

...

The moon seemed cold tonight, even though the evening was hot and I had been uncomfortable in my own skin all day. Whether that was due to the almost unbearably hot day we had been having - okay, days -or because of the unsettling feeling that something bad was going to happen soon, I couldn't say.

Probably that last one.

Despite the heat, I couldn't shake the feeling that even in my own apartment, the place I had been living for over four years, I wasn't particularly safe. I don't know why I felt more secure outside, on the balcony with it's exposed areas but I did. There were no stars out, which wouldn't have usually bothered me but tonight the sky seemed almost suffocating, the lack of stars and thick pillowy clouds making it seem as if it were trying to smother the earth below. This was exactly the same feeling I had before I left to find Chris and wound up holed up on Rockfort and being dragged around like some puppet on a string by a madman who got his rocks off on dressing in his sister's clothes.

Yay.

Needless to say, I didn't like feeling like I was unsafe in my own home or better yet my own body. I don't think anyone does. The doors to the balcony were still open and an eerie silence irked out; that strange kind of forced silence that reminded the occupant that they were all alone. Chris had been out for nearly four months, in India of all places, doing some reconnaisance mission cleaning up some supposedly abandoned Umbrella facilities. The apartment just wasn't the same without his bumbling antics or his screaming at the television while watching football. Sure he was kind of a brute and more than once I had to purchase a new coffee table because he'd break it out of anger towards a video game - after the last broken glass table I decided that I'd stick with wood - but he was my brute and I missed him.

Now that he was gone and for how much longer I wasn't even sure, the apartment seemed more like a prison than a home. How pathetic am I that instead of going out and getting tanked on a Friday night with some friends I'm here missing my older brother and being afraid of my own shadow?

Words can't compare.

Don't get me wrong I've been known to party, as most kids in college are, but without coming home and playing drunk Xbox with Chris it just lost it's appeal for the most part. Not to mention that since slacking off a bit last semester had my GPA suffering a bit I decided that instead of taking part in all of the summer fun my colleagues were, I would take up a hefty load of extra classes to make up for the loss. Hefty being how much my student grant could afford, which weren't many but I made due.

The sound of laughter coming from below made my eyes look in that direction. Two figures were running, attached at the arms and it appeared to be a young couple. I smiled slightly at the display but when the guy grabbed his girlfriend and held her closely before kissing her I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit sad. They stayed in the moment for a few more seconds before she grabbed his arm and they ran off towards the park giggling like school kids. I wasn't exactly a bitter person but I couldn't say I didn't feel the slightest bit envious of the two who seemed like they had the world in their back pockets. Sure, I had been on dates here and there and I was sure I could get into a relationship if I really wanted to.

I just didn't want to.

Okay, so I did want to but somehow all of my experiences with the very few romances I had and the fact that impending doom seemed to loom over my head like a nasty rain cloud made me stay away from it. Of course I wanted to find the right man and settle down, maybe start a family of my own one day, every girl did, but I never felt as if it would happen like that.

Sometimes I felt like it might be better that it didn't.

A pair of blue eyes and a familiar young face entered my mind, haunting me even still. I had only known him for maybe twenty four hours and when I lost him I was undeniably crushed. I don't think I could handle it if it happened again. No, I didn't love him but I couldn't help but feel that I would have if given the chance.

I didn't want to lose someone I really did love and knowing my knack for getting caught up in the nasty situations I do, it was sure to follow down that path.

So I strayed along, pushing away the men who might have been somewhat decent relationship material with a crappy first date and excuses. It was just easier that way.

Feeling dismayed I went back into my apartment, desperately needing some real fresh air. A walk would do me good, maybe I would head on towards the park that the young couple had gone to. Sometimes I liked to go there and sit on the swings, reminiscing in the days before our parents had died and Chris would push me on those very swings and me calling out to him to go higher and higher.

I slid on my beaten running shoes and pulled my hair back into it's customary ponytail before grabbing my keys and leaving the apartment. Before I could get more than four feet from my front door however, I was met by the friendly crinkled brown eyes of my next door neighbor Mr. Franklin.

"Hello there, Claire. Going out for a stroll on this lovely night?" He smiled warmly at me. He was always an optimist, even though life had thrown him some sick curveballs. Last year his wife had given up the fight to stage four breast cancer at the age of forty-six and just before that he had been laid off at the chemical plant he had worked at for over twenty years. Two years before that his eighteen year old daughter Elaine had been killed by a drunk driver while walking back to her dorm room during her first week of college. Still, through it all he was never angry, never hopeless and remained faithful in his belief that 'God has an answer and a reason for everything He does'.

Sometimes I wish I could believe that.

Before she died, Mrs. Franklin - who had a penchant for Chris and I - would bring over fresh cookies and baked goods and fret about like a concerned mother over the fact that Chris smoked too much. Elaine used to come over and help me with my homework and sometimes we would catch a movie if she didn't have any plans.

The Franklins had been an entire family of saints and for some reason they had all been taken away.

If God had a plan for everything, I often wondered while watching the lonely yet still hopeful Jim Franklin walk his fifteen year old dog Humphrey, what was the plan for taking away two of the very few people who had served Him so diligently?

Some things just never sat well with me, that being one of many. Children dying of cancer, innocent people getting killed as the by-product of a mugging gone wrong, stillbirths with no actual cause of death; why would such an omnipotent being let all of these terrible things happen?

What was the reasoning behind that, God?

I always wanted to ask Mr. Franklin that but I had the feeling that he held on to his faith as a drowning man held on to his very last breath; I didn't want to be the one to take that away from him. Instead I plastered on my best 'brave girl face' as my mother used to call it and smiled right back at him.

"Yes sir I am. I was feeling a bit cooped up in this place. Thought the fresh air would do me good." Without warning the friendly black lab rushed forward and sat at my feet, patiently waiting for the pat on the head and the scratch behind the ears that he knew would come and panted happily when it did, "Hey Humphrey, are you being a good boy?" I bent down to scratch his belly when he rolled over and Mr. Franklin chuckled.

"I see someone has missed you. Where's that brother of yours been? I haven't seen him around lately."

"Oh, he was called away for work. India." I stood back up, despite the disappointed groan from the dog who was still just as nimble as a puppy even though he was nearing his second decade of life.

"India's a nice place if you go to the right places. Tell him when he gets back to come and pay me a visit, I got something interesting for him if he wants it." Humphrey began to whine and ran off grabbing his leash in his teeth before coming back and pawing at Mr. Franklin's pant leg.

"I surely will, Mr. Franklin. Seems like Humphrey wants to go for an evening walk too, dontcha boy?" The lab's ears perked up and his master seemed a bit exasperated as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"He always is. I would take him for another walk but you know, my arthritis has been acting up so I haven't been able to walk him as much as he would like. It's made him a bit restless." Mr. Franklin rested a work worn brown hand on the lab's head before patting it sympathetically. The dog seemed to understand and dropped the leash, albeit a little sadly.

"Well, he can come with me if he'd like. I wouldn't mind having a bodyguard, I mean if you don't mind." I picked the leash up off the floor and if Humphrey could do a happy dance, I'm sure he would have. Instead he just wagged his tail happily.

"I'm sure he'd love that. You sure you wouldn't mind? I'm sure you had something important to do." Mr. Franklin smiled again, the kind of smile that clearly shows that one is strong enough to put on his best face despite the fact that he has the world falling down around him. It was the kind of smile that made your heart melt just a bit.

"Trust me, I wasn't doing anything but sitting in an empty house and wondering if I should unclog my bathroom drain. His company would be more than welcome," I dropped to my knees again, "That is of course, if he will have me." As if in response the dog licked my face happily.

"Sounds like a yes to me," Mr. Franklin chuckled, "Thank you so much, Claire. You're an angel." I hooked the leash to his collar and stood proudly. I was quite pleased with myself at doing something nice for the man who had done so many nice things for my brother and I.

"Anything for you, Mr. Franklin. I was going to stop at the little store up the road too, do you need anything?" It felt damn good to be doing something positive and I just really wanted to take any kind of load off of Mr. Franklin I could. Plus any time spent out of my apartment was time I could count a success; having Humphrey would make me feel a bit a safer out in the streets too.

"Oh no, hun, I'm just fine. Just don't run him too hard, he's not the pup he used to be. Despite how he may believe he is. And thank you again, Claire, you have no idea how much this means to me." Another smile and I couldn't help the slight crack in my heart. Poor Mr. Franklin, if someone offering to walk his dog means so much to him...

Well it was just endearing.

"You know I'll take care of him as if he were my very own."

"He may as well be, I think he likes you more than me sometimes. You two be careful."

I nodded and started away with my newfound black furred companion in tow before stopping to wave at Mr. Franklin. He returned back into his apartment but not before waving back. His last words played in my mind like a mantra.

"You two be careful."

I don't know why but I felt the need in that moment to ensure that Humphrey was more protected than myself so I stopped at my apartment to retrieve my trusty insurance policy. The dog seemed to understand when I slipped the gun under my belt, making sure the safety was on, and waited patiently by the front door for me to return. If anything did happen, I had to make it my top priority that the loving dog who had been by my kind neighbor's side for so long would be perfectly anything happened to the very last loved one he had left, I would never forgive myself. Soon we were on our way, the black lab happily jogging along aside me down the worn wooden steps.

"You up for a little run, Humphrey?" I looked down to him with a smile and he wagged his tail in agreement.

...

_cause i'm gonna _**[get] **_you  
>and your <em>**[little]**_dog too_

...

I love running but lately I had been quite the shut in with Chris not around and hadn't gone out much to do more than grocery shop or go to class. The wind through my hair felt great and even though I was sweating a bit vigorously, I felt more free than I had in months. I looked down to my furry companion who was still matching my speed but I decided to slow down for him. He seemed a bit appreciative at the gesture and moved forward to walk ahead of me.

I felt my heart swell a bit. He was trying to protect me.

A few more blocks had found us at the store and knowing that I would only be in for a few moments I tied his leash to a pole near the door and asked the cashier if he would keep an eye on him through the window for a moment while I gathered my supplies.

The guy looked like he was more interested in keeping an eye on me but agreed with the kind of smile that seemed as if he thought watching after my dog would ultimately get him into bed with me.

Fat chance, jerk.

He was decently attractive but he had this look in his eye that clearly told me that he was undressing me with his eyes which, for me, wasn't exactly a turn on when first meeting someone.

I got the staples - milk, bread, eggs - and the not-so-staples - some candy and a bag of chips - and carried my stuff to the counter. Mr. Rapist Eyes seemed to be taking an awfully long time to ring up my things and put them in bags and I was dreading what was sure to come.

"So, is there any chance I could get your number?"

Ahh, and there it was.

With a faux apologetic smile I replied with the standard 'sorry, I already have a boyfriend' and I didn't even care that I didn't as I paid him and grabbed my things hastily before bounding out the front door. Humphrey seemed just as happy to see me as I was him and I untied his leash, hoping that he would be okay with walking a bit slower since I had some items in tow that would slow me down a bit.

Five blocks in I knew I was being followed, call it survivor's intuition if you will, and I sincerely hoped it hadn't been the guy behind the counter at the store. I don't know how he would ever explain to his buddies when they came to visit him in the hospital that a five foot six girl had beat the shit out of him.

I'm supposing by the stiff and alert way Humphrey walked just a bit closer to me that he could sense our pursuer too. In a form of comfort I grabbed his leash just a bit tighter. I spent the whole walk home antsy and praying to whatever force that dared to listen that I wouldn't be confronted while I had Humphrey. I needed to get him back to Mr. Franklin safe and sound.

So funny that I would put a dog before my own well being. Well maybe not too funny seeing as I have always been the type to appreciate animals. Hell, I liked animals - especially dogs - more than most humans. There was something just pleasant about an animal that always had an unwavering loyalty like dogs did.

Thankfully the spirits - or whatever - had heard my silent mumblings and I returned safely to my apartment building with my unblemished fluffy package in tow. I knocked on Mr. Franklin's door lightly before he answered with that unfailing smile of his to accept his dog back. I patted Humphrey on the head and trailed a bit back down the hall to my own apartment. I entered swiftly and locked all of the bolts before that dreaded feeling from earlier returned, only to be compounded with the realization that my fear from earlier might have been well placed from the very beginning.

What if I was being watched even before my trek to the store and hadn't paid attention to it?

Another realization dawned on me that made the cold feeling on my skin flare and the dread in my stomach bubble: What if someone had seen me interacting with Mr. Franklin and what if they used him to get to me or tried to hurt him?

I should have warned him, I argued with myself, but that would have put a pressure on him that I just didn't want to do.

I slid against the door, paranoia gripping at me with cold fingers and sat on the floor, grabbing the pistol hidden underneath my shirt and switched the safety off. I sat for what was probably two hours before I began to feel undeniably sleepy. My grocery items sat next to me on the floor untouched and I knew I should have put them away but I stayed at my post defiantly. I struggled to battle the sleep that I knew would come for awhile but eventually, my hand still gripping the pistol tightly, my eyes closed.

...

_fix it up and _**[shoot] **_it in  
>and confront your <em>**[demons]**_ like an exorcist_

...

The sound of three popping noises caused me to jump to my feet and my heart was racing and beating against my ribs almost painfully. I recognized the sounds almost instantly, fearing the absolute worst.

Gunshots.

Judging from the fact that they weren't particularly loud I could safely assume that they came from outside, probably somewhere a bit down the street. This did little to comfort me other than the fact that now I knew they didn't come from Mr. Franklin's apartment. I looked to the digital clock on my microwave and read the time as ten til four. I had been asleep for almost three hours before I was ripped from sleep by the gunshots.

Another one came and - my knuckles white from gripping the gun so tightly - I crept slowly towards the window that looked out over the street, near the balcony. I ducked under it before leaning up to peer out of the slightly opened blinds. A gasp that sounded more like a hiss left my lungs as I caught sight of a single man standing over three crumpled forms on the ground. I dropped down before he could even look towards me and longingly glanced at the cordless phone that I had left on my counter. I really should call the cops, I knew, but my fear that this man was ultimately after me had me paralyzed with fear. Finally, with an almost comforting silence that pierced through the apartment, I crawled towards the phone, not wanting to stand for fear that he would see me.

I grabbed the phone, dialing 911 before hitting the talk button. Nothing happened and with a slap to my forehead for being such an idiot, I realized that when I left it off the hook for so long it had died.

"Shit, shit, shit! Stupid Claire!" I hissed to myself before running to my bedroom to retrieve my cell phone which I had left here instead of bringing it with me like I should have.

I was really bad with phones.

I rushed in so quickly that I hadn't noticed him standing there at first and with trembling fingers I dialed 911. As I went to hit the send button however, my eyes caught sight of a pair of black boots and my hand froze as I slowly looked up to identify the intruder standing in my bedroom. The red eyes that had haunted my nightmares had confirmed my most feared delusions.

Albert Wesker was standing in my bedroom, the wind from the open window blowing his long leather coat behind him with the appearance similar of the long cloak worn by the Grim Reaper himself.

I went to raise my trembling hand to fire a shot in his direction but in a lightning fast movement I was disarmed and pressed against my bed, a cold leather glove muffling any screams I had managed to conjure up in my fear. I struggled deftly against him, the fight or flight instinct taking me over and I could feel my heart beating against my chest and into his, his own chest reverberating it back to me.

"Shh. Quit struggling," He hissed at me his voice seeming unnaturally harsh and hurried. It lacked that certain silky-smooth 'I'm better than you and you will know it' quality it normally had. He never once took a weapon to my head as I thought he would though, which kind of threw me for a loop once I thought about it. I didn't stop moving as he had asked and tried to fight back against him, only to have him push harder against me to keep me subdued, "Miss Redfield stop or they'll hear you!" He ground out and those were the magic words that made me lie still beneath him, my breaths coming quick and uneven. It was then that I became aware of all the things I had missed before. He seemed unusual and almost uneasy, and the warm wetness seeping through his chest onto mine and the smell of copper indicated that he was bleeding. Even his normally perfect hair seemed just the slightest bit ruffled up now that I noticed it. Then I noticed something so disdainful that made me almost want to cry at how simply unreal it was. How terrible and truly inhuman the man pinning me to the bed truly was.

There was a bullet wound just above his left eyebrow. The man - or whatever was left of a man he was - had been shot directly in the head and seemed to be fine for the most part. Well not really fine for him I was sure. The fatal wound that would have killed anyone else had his eyes glazed and quite unfocused, yet he was still on his feet - err, so to speak -and quite undead as ever.

The sound of a lock jiggling made my eyes widen to a point where I thought they would bulge out of my head but I stayed as still as ever with the mantra of 'better the enemy you know than the one you don't' playing over in my brain. I'm not sure how sure those words worked - or even if they worked - with Albert Wesker, undead bastard and creepy viral tyrant phenomenon, but something kept me silent even as the door jiggled open and the sound of footsteps proceeded throughout my apartment. I heard the rustle and sounds of things breaking and being tossed around as the intruders searched for something. Before I could even move a bit I felt myself being pelted through the open window, strong arms tightly wrapped around me as we fell towards the ground. I clenched my eyes tightly closed while unconciously burying my face into the leather of his coat, preparing myself for the hit with the ground that never came. As soon as his boots touched ground he moved away from the apartment building in a blinding speed that had me whimpering like a child in his grasp. I wanted to fight him and scream for help but some sort of common sense kept me still and a voice that told me that it was safer with him than with whoever the hell had been tearing my apartment to shreds.

He began to slow, although from his unsteady movements I could tell it wasn't on purpose. A bullet in the head could probably do that to even the most defiant of freaks of nature. He was still fast but for a moment his grip loosened as if he was going to drop me. I knew I should have counted this as a blessing but when the gunshots resounded behind us in the distance, I knew that it would most likely mean the end for me.

Not everyone could take a bullet to the head and be fine.

Putting as much distance between the assaulters and us as possible, he finally stopped and haphazardly placed me down on a motorcycle that I was sure wasn't his by the way he ripped out a pocket knife and jiggled it into the ignition.

If he was trying to start the thing, that certainly wasn't the right way to do it.

By some saving grace though, he got it started and instructed me to hold on tightly as he sped off down the road, kicking the poor machine much faster than it was built to go.

I could have jumped off and knowing that with the proper dismount I _might_ not die upon impact with the ground but instead all I did was yell at him through the forceful wind.

"You're going to blow the engine out! Slow down!" He didn't respond but I'm sure he already knew that anyway. I could almost feel the cocky and smug rolling of his eyes from behind him. After awhile of the tumultous speeding, though, he did slow down and I was confident that the people who were so desperate to get to him - or me - had been lost.

That left me with an even bigger problem to deal with: the fact that I was currently smushed against my brother's greatest enemy and bane of the human existence.

Well, shit, this wasn't exactly how my day was supposed to go. Right now though I was too freaked out from earlier to speak a word and nothing was said until he made an exit off the interstate into a shitty little town that didn't even have a name. He stopped the motorcycle and yanked me off of it a little more roughly then was needed, nearly dragging me all the way to the first seedy motel he could find.

Fuck this, I had had enough of being yanked around for the day.

"No!" I tore away from him and he stopped instantly, turning around as evenly as he could. He walked back to grab me but I slipped away from him and in a fit of what I was sure was insanity - or perhaps sanity who knows - I made a mad dash for the interstate.

"Stop it." I heard his voice from directly behind me before his arms latched onto me in an attempt to drag me back.

"No, you bastard. Let me go right now or I swear I'll-" Before I could finish my sentence though I felt a pinprick on the side of my neck. I felt my body become sluggish in just seconds, whatever he had drugged me with was damn strong I knew, but all I could think about was the fact that he was saying things I couldn't quite understand.

"Didn't...this...along...quietly..." Soon enough my eyes slammed shut and I was forced down to the ground like an elephant being tranquilized. I hit my knees and I felt my face crash against something firm but still giving before my conciousness faded completely.

...

_it only _**[hurts] **_just once  
>they're<em>_only _**[broken] **_bones_

...

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the slamming in my head, the second thing I noticed was the fact that this was not my room, and the third was that there was a blonde head placed on the pillow next to me.

I slowly rose, afraid to wake him or even so much as cause him to move, and stumbled around in the dark as quietly as I could until I found a doorknob which signaled a possible bathroom. I berated myself in my head, knowing I should be trying to get away but if history taught us anything it's that you just can't get away from Albert Wesker.

_'Or better yet, is he the one you're supposed to running away from?'_

Oh, shut up me.

Willing my brain to leave me the hell alone, I tried to ignore the thrumming in my head as I searched what I knew were empty motel cabinets for some kind of pain killer. A rattle from behind me made me swirl around too fast and I paid for it dearly. My head convulsed angrily as I was met with the sight of an undeniably disheveled Wesker. His hair was even more ruffled and he was caked in dried blood. His eyes still looked glassy and unfocused but he held his ground. When I looked up at his forehead I gasped loudly. He still had that bullet lodged in it; how he was standing I would never know. He handed me the bottle of what appeared to be Tylenol and no sooner than I had taken them from him did he collapse to the ground, slamming his head on the unforgiving floor.

My initial thought was not what it should have been, which was 'sweet! now I can escape unfettered, mwahahaha!'. No my initial thought was - blame me for being a stickler for seeing someone in pain or with a bullet to the head, your pick - 'i should really remove that bullet from his brain'.

He hadn't killed me yet and we were about to see if that popular Redfield Luck would win out or not.

I rolled him over, checking his pulse but not finding one at first, although I knew he was breathing, however shallowly that may be. Finally I had located it, more out of determination to prove that he actually had one and less out of ensuring he was still alive. It was painstakingly slow but I had no idea if it was just like that, or if he was nearing the edge of death. I didn't know either but I was willing to bet it was the former. I ripped open the black button down to check the wounds on his chest only to find them not there. His accelerated healing must have taken care of that but couldn't with the gun shot wound because of the offending piece of metal still in there. I reached into his pocket to locate that Swiss Army style knife from earlier and found that it had the required tools on it that I would need to remove the bullet successfully. I popped open the knife attachment and pushing with delicate hands managed to force the bullet towards the surface, lucky for me it wasn't too far down or I would have the unfortunate fun of attempting to dig it out of brain matter.

That was just gross.

When it was where I could clearly see it, I popped open the thin needle nose pliers and grabbed it trying not to rip it out with too much force. I sort of jiggled it out instead and finally managed to free it loose, uncorking what struck me as an incredibly slow stream of blood.

Well that would explain the pulse.

Successful in my at-home-surgery, and knowing that doing that to anyone else would kill them, I managed to pull him up into the bed and wrap a hand towel tightly around his head, my inner workings arguing with me as to why I hadn't left yet.

Instead I took a few tylenol and sat on the edge of the bed, pondering what I would do when he finally woke up. It didn't take too long until he sat up, eyes focused and normal again as if nothing had ever happened. The flesh on his head had healed seamlessly in a matter of minutes.

It was then that I realized what I had done and just how far in over my head I was. I had willingly aided and helped a known criminal and the one man who wanted my brother dead.

Oh god.

"We need to move." His clipped words made me snap up to him and even though I truly wanted to shoot the arrogant bastard in the head for good measure I found I couldn't do more than sit in still silence.

Finally I felt compelled to speak, the events of the day that had trespassed wearing on me finally in the way my words almost broke.

"Can I at least know what the hell is going on?"

The blonde shook his head slowly as if responding to a child and it made my temper flare, "It's not safe to discuss such matters now." He moved towards the door, placing his jacket back on his solid frame and stopping as if waiting for me to join him. I didn't budge and he let out a frustrated exhale, "Miss Redfield, if you clearly can't see the situation for what it is then perhaps I should just leave you here."

I had no idea what he was talking about but true to my stubborn Redfield ways all I said was, "Fine you dick. I don't want to go with you anyway."

"Don't make me drug you again, dear heart." The nickname made me shudder, taking me back to the place I had first heard it slip from his serpentine mouth. The same place I had tried to bury my deepest and most sorrowful regret: Rockfort. Without hesitance he continued, "And I don't suggest you try and test me, the end result will be much more than the loss of your dignity."

"I'm not afraid of you, Wesker." A lie I was sure he could see right through.

"It's not me you need to be afraid of, Miss Redfield," An almost omnipotent smirk shone on his face, sending an almost unholy shiver through my body, "At least not right now."

Despite that, I knew the truth in his words. He hadn't kidnapped me, or at least not at first, but in all reality he had saved me from whoever that was before.

The realization hit me that they had been looking for me - or Chris - and not Wesker like I had assumed. Was he the one who had been standing over those bodies before? Did he actually kill those men to prevent them from killing me?

That thought was too ridiculous to even entertain but the evidence was all stacking up in his favor. Of course being who he was, I was sure he had some ulterior motive to saving me.

Only time would tell what that was.

Very reluctantly, and against my better wishes I might add, I stood to follow him out of the door.

Jesus Claire, what the hell are you doing?

Better the enemy you know, than the one you don't.

...

_the clock strikes twelve and moondrops _**[burst]  
><strong>_down at you from their _**[hiding]**_ place  
><em>  
>...<p>

Seven hours later had seen me into an all black interior and matching exterior Mercedes and on the road with a madman who wanted my brother dead.

I could see the disappointment in Chris' eyes already.

He hadn't spoken since we began this trip to who know's where but he seemed very interested in his rearview mirror, faithfully checking it every few minutes for the past five hours we had actually been on the road. I had no idea how he even acquired this vehicle but something told me that I didn't want to know. Somehow while I had been sleeping though he had managed to get it, and it had been sitting in the parking lot when we left the motel. He had also acquired a pair of signature sunglasses which I was pretty sure he hadn't had before, they sat on his noble looking nose as if they had grown there.

Finally and almost thankfully he broke the silence although the words he spoke left me wishing he hadn't opened his mouth at all.

"Miss Redfield, how well do you remember your time at Rockfort?" For some reason, even though it had been many years since the incident had passed, it was still a sore subject for me to bring up even with Chris. When Wesker spoke of it it was as if he had brutally ripped open a wound that had never really healed, whether or not that was his intention.

"Too well." I responded quietly, paying alot of attention to the interstate signs as they passed.

He 'hmm'd softly before speaking again, his voice coming across to me as more mockery than inquiry. He knew what had happened there, he was _there_, so why did he feel the need to ask?

Because he's a sadistic jerk with no real life, that's why.

"Do you remember any period of time that went by that was unnaccounted for? Were you ever unconcious at all?"

Instead of responding with the answer he was fishing for, I retaliated harshly, "Is this relevant to the situation at all? Or are you just getting your kicks by bringing up things I would rather forget?"

"Answer the question, Miss Redfield." He said, a hint of warning in his voice.

"You answer my question, _Mr. Wesker._" Okay, so that was kind of childish but the irritation I was feeling was overshadowing any intelligent judgement I had. With a sigh that indicated he was getting quite sick of me his lip upturned in a sneer.

Well the feeling is mutual, jackass.

"I assure you, dear heart, it is _very_ relevant. I suggest you start doing as you're told or you will find that I will not be so patient with you if you continue these immature antics." Right now I wanted no more than to punch him in his perfectly chiseled face but I decided to play along for now and give the bastard what he wanted.

"We got sideswiped by one of Alexia's tentacle things and I was bound and stuck to the wall in some sort of cocoon before Chris got me out. Is that good enough for you?" I spat, turning my head away from him and looking out the window with interest.

"Were exposed to anything there? Did you get bitten at all? A poison, a toxin?" Still with the damn questions.

"I got poisoned by Alexander Ashford." A long period of silence followed as if he were weighing options in his mind before he spoke again.

"The people, the ones in your apartment, they believe that you hold the only antibody in existence to the T-Veronica virus. They were there to take it from you." I looked over at him, confusion written all over my face.

"I was infected? But how-"

"For a very short time, before the serum administered to you forced it into a long term dormant state. Somehow, it worked, although I'm not sure how. T-Veronica is very agressive and a simple neutralizer shouldn't have done that."

"So fine. Let them have it." I said defiantly. If that was all they wanted, then I didn't understand why they couldn't just take a blood sample from me and get it.

"They weren't just there to take your blood, Miss Redfield. They wanted to kill you." His voice held such a tone of matter of fact-ness that I was somewhat dumbstruck as to the fact that I hadn't pieced it together already. Something else made itself clear as well.

"And they couldn't just make a vaccine for it in a lab?"

"It's never been successfully done." We stayed silent after that until I realized something else, voicing it with a sort of clear disgust.

"Is that why you came for me? You want it too?"

He said nothing to that, whether ignoring me or silently agreeing I didn't know. All I knew was that if he had plans to lock me in a test tube and use me as one of his sick experiments then he had might as well left me at the mercy of those other people. I refused to meet the same fate as Steve or any of those other unfortunate souls. A few more hours had passed and we had stopped at a gas station, I waited in the car - he had locked my door from the outside, as if I had much choice - while he went in and paid. When he returned I voiced the one most prevalent thought that had been on my mind since he mentioned this whole thing. It was the one thing I feared the most and it had my insides squirming in fear.

"Am I still infected?" My voice dropped so low that I was unsure if he could even hear me. He was old after all. Ha. Okay I knew that his age didn't hinder him at all, I was just bitter because the entire world was safe with their own agendas and I was stuck in a car with the one man I'd rather see hanging by his neck from a rafter.

_'Apparently not.' _Damn that sing-songy voice.

I mentally punched myself as he answered, voice still cold and all business. I doubted that the man had a single day - or hour even - of fun in his entire life.

"The virus is still within you, if that's what you meant. As for active mutatagenic infection, I won't know until I'm able to run some tests on you."

I turned my head at him, mouth open in sheer indignation. How dare he! I was not some sample he could slide under his microscope and play with. I was a fucking human being and if he thought I was going down without a fight he could go screw himself with that giant pole rammed up his pompous ass.

"No." I said, crossing my arms tightly and huffing. Something about this brought forth a chuckle that sounded humorless from him and it only stood to make me even more angry, "I will not be your guinea pig. If you want results, get them from someone else."

"You seem to think you have much of a choice, dear heart." He slid his hand over the gear shift, too close to my thigh for comfort, before glaring at me behind those cold shades. I think he did that shit on purpose, just to get to me.

"I do if I throw myself out this car." I muttered darkly, squirming away from his hand. I knew I probably wouldn't throw myself from the car; I had no idea where we were and even if I did manage not to kill myself I was sure he would just stop and come after me. He was that deranged.

"Perhaps you should weigh your options, Miss Redfield," He looked up at the rear view again, an act that was making me more nervous everytime he did it, "Stay with me where I will do some harmless work regarding your blood or leap from this car in a reckless display and either get yourself killed or have me come after you. Trust me when I say that you do not want me to come after you."

"I'm sure the cement is more forgiving." I spat at him. I knew I was being childish but how else was I supposed to act in this situation? Oh thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Wesker, what's that? Would I climb into that tank and stay there for a few months so you can extract a virus from my blood and use it to create another Raccoon City? Sure thing!

No fucking way.

"Of course I could always turn you in to the Government, if you want." That trademark smirk looked even more menacing and I was unsure as to why that would be such a bad thing. Wouldn't being under government protection be a good thing?

"What?"

"Those men, the ones after you, they're government agents. You Redfields really are dense." He let out a snort-like sound before pulling off onto Exit 45. A shock of horror and dread seeped into my bones, transforming my blood into ice water and my limbs felt utterly cold.

He couldn't be telling the truth. He was known for his deception, he had decieved his teammates and led them into a mansion filled with grotesque science experiments bent on eating every living thing in sight. He was a liar through and through.

"You think I can honestly believe anything you say? You're deranged."

A few moments of silence passed before he leaned over, his elbow brushing against my leg, and I tensed up in fear and something else at the touch. I could feel his skin burning through the leather sleeves and I wondered if that was his actual temperature or if the sensation was just that powerful. He pulled open the glove box and removed a file, plopping it on my lap as he straightened back up in his seat.

It took me a while to even touch it and I just looked at the harmless looking manila folder like it had the plague. Sharp, red letters that said 'Confidential' stood out contrastingly against the beige background. Something told me that it was important to open it but I felt as if something terrible would happen when I touched it.

Eventually and with shaking hands I didn't understand I flicked open the file to reveal a stack of carefully stapled papers. I didn't even have to flip through it to understand what it was. I read it quietly but with moving lips.

Subject # 4892661

Name: Redfield, Claire N

Age: 26

Height: 5'6''

Weight: 115 Lbs

Subject was on location on Rockfort Island, as a prisoner and later found to be in Antarctica during the outbreak in 1999. Exposed to T-Veronica by means of airborne contraction. It is unknown as to how but investigation later revealed that she was delivered an antitoxin and T-Veronica was subdued. She is now the only known person believed to be carrying the antibody to T-Veronica. Subject is now on high surveillance and it is top priority that she be recalled. Extract the sample by any means neccessary and deliver to the main laboratory A.S.A.P.

X.N

I sat still for a moment before turning the page to find another document with many blacked out lines. The only real important thing that stood out to me though was the crest of the U.S Government placed on the very top of the page. I felt sick and bile seemed to be creeping up in my throat. I managed to keep it down though I'm not sure how. I looked towards the man through half-lidded eyes and slumped against my seat, tears stinging horribly as they begged to come out.

The force that I had been entrusting, the same people that one of my best friends worked for, were trying to kill me. They wanted this antibody and they would be forced to kill me if I didn't comply. Even if I did, who's to say they wouldn't have killed me anyway? Keep the project under wraps the best way they could and remove me from the picture.

I felt betrayed and utterly helpless, sitting aside a man who should have been the one to try and kill me but instead took me away to keep me from that. I wasn't entirely sure what he wanted with me, I wasn't even sure if he wanted the antibody too. I was almost sure he did but why not try his hand at the same method they did?

Why keep me alive?

I didn't want to think anymore, I didn't even want to be awake anymore. It had been a horrible night and an even worse morning and all I wanted to do was drink myself into a coma and forget all of this was even happening.

Once I let my eyes close however, I found that I wouldn't need alcohol to assist me in sleep. In literally seconds, thanks to the strain that had exhausted me and the smooth thrumming of the engine I had drifted off into a frighteningly deep sleep.

...

_for all the _**[hurt] **_that you feel  
>the world is just <em>**[illusion]**_ trying to change you_

...

I woke in a bed with smooth and clean cotton sheets and a new set of pajamas on. I was still so exhausted that I wasn't really worried that Wesker had probably changed my clothes while I was asleep. The bastard probably didn't have a sex drive anyway. My eyes adjusted to what I perceived as a frighteningly bright light but what was actually a comfortably dim sconce just above the bed. I laid there for awhile, still piecing things together in my head.

The government was trying to kill me, Albert Wesker had basically kidnapped me and I was thousands of miles away from the only family I had left. The only one who could even remotely help me was in India.

Oh joy unbounded.

I felt undeniably groggy and exhausted, something I never usually felt when I woke up. Had I really been sleeping so hard that I hadn't even felt myself being moved around from the car to...where ever this was?

That didn't seem right at all. I wasn't a particularly deep sleeper.

Unless of course the bastard drugged me again after I had fallen asleep to make sure I wouldn't be a bother to him on the ride. Irritated, I blew my unruly bangs out of my eyes and attempted to sit up, trying to ignore the jello-y feeling in my muscles. I finally managed a stand and got my legs to work properly as I walked around the room to explore a bit.

It was pretty elegantly furnished, though not over the top so that everything looked like it belonged in a palace rather than a house. The plush carpet under my feet was a pristine shade of off white and looked and felt like it had never been walked on before. The walls were a slightly brighter shade of white and were adorned with deep crimson curtains across heavy windows. I pulled open the curtains and found myself faced with a terribly large expanse of wooded area. I placed my hand on the pane and the glass felt very cold.

That wasn't right, it was summer time.

Unless of course I was in some other country, which seemed very plausible. I tore myself away from the window towards a closet, stepping on the perfect carpet with caution as if I was afraid to mess it up. I pulled open the large wooden doors and felt my breath catch in my throat.

There in the giant walk-in closet was a line of beautiful dresses and gowns, followed with a set of expensive looking skirt suits and after that a row of casual outfits and jeans. I stepped in to check it out with interest and found a large array of different switches and knobs on the wall. I pressed one and chirped nervously as a wall moved to the side to reveal a shoe shelf lined with everything from tennis shoes to running shoes to strappy heels and boots.

Just who's room was I in?

I checked the size on a pair of jeans to find that they were exactly my size and stepped away from them as if I had been burned. A newfound realization had my skin burning with anger.

He had planned this out all along and had these things bought for me in anticipation of this.

Unaware of my inner self warning me of what I was doing, I threw open the front door of the room and stampeded down the hall past a row of maybe six more rooms other than the one I had woken up in. I found myself then at a grandiose staircase that ran down two seperate paths, both leading to what I presumed was a living room. I stormed down them, looking for that blonde asshole to give him a piece of my mind. I wanted answers and I wanted them now.

I nearly tripped in my haste on the second to last step and began my search around the huge house, flinging doors open and looking inside for him. Most of the doors I opened led to storage closets but soon I found myself in a dining room, seething.

There he was, in a most unusual setting, seated at a large cherrywood dining table, typing away on a laptop.

"Good morning, Miss Redfield." His nonchalant voice made me even angrier and I found myself wanting to kick him in his groin but instead stood exactly where I was.

"What the hell is going here, Wesker?" I hissed, wanting to scream and throw a fit but found myself unable to raise my voice around him. I didn't feel like being drugged again.

He never looked up from his work as he answered me, his voice filled with mock innocence, "I'm afraid I don't follow you, dear heart."

"Oh don't play that shit with me," I really was being liberal on the swearing lately, "The room, the clothes, the whole...goddamn thing! Did you have this planned out from the beginning?"

Finally he decided to stop being coy and shut his laptop to look at me with eyes absent of shades, something that I surprisingly found to be less intimidating than the sunglasses. You'd figure that red and orange reptilian eyes would be more frightening than a pair shrouded all of the time but somehow it made me feel as if it was more revealing than he would normally allow. As if taking off those shades allowed one to look deeper into him.

Not that I ever wanted to be any deeper into him than I was already, mind you.

"Miss Redfield, I have been keeping watch over the governments actions for quite some time. I knew it to be more beneficial to procure you myself than to allow them to take you. I merely planned ahead." His voice was dangerously...normal. It was kind of creepy to not hear that hiss of a voice he usually used.

I guess when all you've ever seen of a person was their nasty and cruel side, anything else could be overwhelming and strange.

"Oh? Beneficial for who exactly?"

He took a sip of whatever was in the black mug next to his laptop and that almost made me choke. I never pictured him consuming anything ever. I guess I figured he didn't have to what with being an inhuman freak.

"Both of us, Miss Redfield. Are your accomodations not to your liking?" The question was so strikingly...normal that I was taken aback and found my anger slipping away. Why was he doing this? Why wasn't he being a jerkoff? What the hell was going on?

"No, I'm just sick of always being kept out of the loop. Did you dose me again earlier?"

Wesker opened the laptop clicking away on a few keys before responding monotonously, "I had to ensure that you wouldn't attempt any more foolish acts. It was for your own safety."

"Right," I huffed, suddenly feeling cold, "Because my safety is your top concern."

He rose from his chair, appearing undeniably tall and dark in the dim light of the dining room, and strode over to me, looming ominously above me. He leaned forward and caught my chin in his hands, forcing me to look up towards him. I tried to resist but he tugged on my face firmly, his bare hands burning on my skin. His eyes radiated an intense glow that seemed to burn within his skull. My breath had caught in my chest and for a moment I was sure I had stopped breathing altogether. My brain was screaming at me to push him away but his eyes had me glued to the spot. It was as if they were reading into me, scanning everything and hiding it away for future reference. He didn't look angry, which set off warning bells in my head. His eyelids lowered as he brought his face closer to mine. My heart thundered fearfully in my chest, as my brain tried to sort through what was going on.

Oh God, was he going to kiss me? When his lips stopped just before my ear, I felt relief and exhaled but only slightly.

"If your life," He slithered out, like the snake he was, his breath painstakingly hot on my ear, "wasn't important would I have gone so far out of my way and risked my own well-being to insure it? You should know better by now to ask stupid questions by means of taunting me, dear heart." In a millisecond he was gone, seated back at the table and clicking on the keys once more. I felt cold and hot all at once but mostly I just felt sick.

"You won't tell me what you want with me, at least?" He clicked away a bit more before closing the lid with finality, standing and placing it into a leather bag.

"I'm afraid I haven't the time right now, Miss Redfield. There is a very important call I have to make. We'll talk later, dear heart. In the meantime, help yourself to anything in the kitchen or the living room." He made his way to a set of heavy wooden doors leading towards what I supposed was the back of the house before stopping and turning once again, "Oh, just one more thing," He placed his shades on artfully, "I wouldn't suggest trying to open that front door there, you haven't the required skills nor tools to handle what lies beyond it. I'll be back shortly." He seemed quite pleased with himself and I had to fight the urge not to run over there and kick his face into the wall. Not that I would have gotten far, especially not feeling as crappy as I did. Instead I just threw a useless and predictable insult at him, not feeling the strength to do anything more.

"You're a bastard."

He let out a humorless chuckle and opened the door, "So I've been told. Goodnight, dear heart." He shut the door behind him and I heard the beeping of a keypad on the other side, his footsteps fading off not long after. In my rage I grabbed the mug he had been drinking out of and pelt it towards the door, the pieces shattering against the wood and tinkling to the floor. I screamed at him, even though I knew he couldn't hear me and if he could he would probably just laugh at me.

"I'm not your dear heart!"

I let out a strangled sob and fell to the floor, feeling more trapped than I ever have before.

Trapped and alone with Albert Wesker.

God help me.

...

_am i still _**[breathing] **_have i lost that feeling  
>am i made of <em>**[glass]**_because you see right through me_

...

The next four days passed with little interaction with the devil, leaving me to my own devices for a majority of my time, something that I appreciated for the most part. The less time I had to deal with him the better but a dreadful sense of loneliness had settled into me to the point of where I was getting close to talking to walls. I had only really seen him maybe twice within that period and once had been when he stepped out of his bedroom clad only in a black towel. I had been in the process of opening my door to go down to the kitchen to fix myself some ice cream - one of the many food products I never expected to find in his house - when the door to what I assumed was his room opened and he emerged, mostly naked and still damp from a shower. I promptly shut the door, pressing myself against it with wide eyes.

I didn't leave the room until I was absolutely sure he was gone.

The second time had been when he had actively searched me out to do those blood tests he'd seemingly been so keen on in the car and had decided to wait four days to actually do. He was probably avoiding me up until that point, until he figured he could wait no longer.

I had been scribbling random doodles on a notebook that I had found in the desk upon my quest to search this room from floor to ceiling in search of hidden cameras or anything else the bastard could use to spy on me when the knock came.

At first I didn't answer, ignoring him until he took it upon himself to let himself in. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black blazer with a dark blue turtleneck beneath. I would say that the blue was a welcome change but it too was so dark that it could have passed for a lightly faded black, so I won't.

Everything about him was black, just like his soul, if he even had one. I was surprised he hadn't dyed his hair black to match the ensemble of darkness. I giggled to myself as a vision of Wesker sitting in the chair at a hair salon, his head under a blow dryer.

I really was losing it.

He must have thought so too, considering he was looking at me as if I lost my mind. I just smirked down at my notepad never looking at him as I spoke.

"Don't you ever knock?" I couldn't see his eyes - I wasn't looking and those damn shades were obscuring his eyes even if I wanted to look - but I was sure he was rolling them at me. I didn't care, annoying him was one of the only things I could do anyway. I suppose I could have gone downstairs to watch TV or bake or something ridiculous like that but I felt that it would be far too weird plus it would ruin the whole avoidance act I was conveying.

I doubted that my choice of television was hardly anything he'd be interested in, even if he did watch it, which I doubted seriously.

"We need to take a little trip to the lab, Miss Redfield. I need to run those blood tests on you." I was kind of expecting him to stalk away after proclaiming and expecting me to follow after him, but he just stood there.

"Yeah I can't right now. I'm really busy." I said in a bored tone. I really needed to stop trying to cross the line with him but I just couldn't help it. The smart allecked responses came out of my mouth. I had just finished a rather crude drawing of a zombie gnawing at Wesker's head when he remarked back at me, arms crossed against his chest. His most favorite pose.

"Yes, of course. Sketching out a horrible likeness of me being eaten by a zombie is awfully busy work. I don't even look like that." He snorted and I almost laughed but I stopped myself. It wouldn't have come out as spiteful as I would have wanted it to anyway.

"I suppose that's all in perspective to the artist. You're standing in my light." I ground out, never taking my eyes off of my pad but I had stopped doodling. His presence made me nervous and unable to do well...anything.

"Don't waste my time, Miss Redfield. I have important matters to attend to after I am done with taking your samples."

"Oh? Plotting out the destruction of another city today? Why not break the mold and try to fit in another one after lunch?" As soon as those words came out of my mouth I could feel him almost seething behind me, his patience seemingly much thinner today than normal.

"Now, Redfield!" He roared out, something very unlike him, but it had the desired effect he wanted because I stood and grabbed the beige sweater I had found in the closet that I basically wore all of the time now.

Once he saw that I was willing to follow him he started down the hall with me begrudgingly straggling behind. He lead me down the stairs and towards the doors that he often went behind, the locked ones, the ones I wasn't allowed anywhere near.

"What's back there anyway?" I asked, pondering what to draw when I got back to my luxurious cell. I always liked to draw and since there really was nothing else to do it kept me mostly occupied. I was curious about what he was hiding back there though.

"If you wait another four seconds you'll see." He huffed out. My, my was he cranky today. I wanted to ask him what his problem was and if he needed help getting that pole I mentioned earlier out of his ass but thankfully I wasn't able to make that mistake as he swung open the doors. I rose my arm to my eyes to sheild out what was possibly the worst arrangement of bright fluorescent lights ever assembled on a ceiling. A very long, very white hall with an equally white tiled floor stretched on for quite some time and I noticed that there were various little sensor looking objects lined on the walls. I had no idea what they could possibly be and I wanted to ask but I didn't feel like irritating him at that moment.

Strange I know.

Finally the long hall stopped at what appeared to be some sort of panel, he punched in a few numbers, faster than I could follow mind you and another panel on the wall opened revealing what looked like a camera with a red lens.

"Greetings Dr. Wesker. Please proceed to the decontamination shower." It echoed through the halls, the red lens moving in accordance to the words it spoke.

"An AI unit? Fancy," I said quietly, "What's it for?" The metal shaft door slid upwards and I was brought back to the research laboratory in Raccoon that Leon and I had trekked through in our search for the vaccine to help Sherry.

"To verify the status of personnel that enter through here and other areas. It monitors the labs below as well. And technically it's a VI rather than an AI," He said, voice completely devoid of humor. Something was seriously wrong with him today and even though I wanted to ask, I didn't feel like an incident like the one before. Honestly I was surprised he hadn't hurt me yet although sometimes it seemed like he was holding back from it.

Aww, he has some self control.

A part of me, my darker and more dangerous wild side, felt like testing that so called self control to see if it was as strong if it looked, but my sensibilities argued that this was a bad idea unless I wanted some broken bones.

"Miss Redfield, the decontamination shower." He commanded and I huffed at the thought of being sprayed with cold and possibly dangerous chemicals but I walked in anyway. He followed after and the doors shut tight as if indicating some kind of impending doom. The jets hissed on and I yelped as I was assaulted with freezing dampness.

"It would be wise to close your eyes, dear heart. Unless you like the burning sensation." He said, standing as still as if he had done this a million times in his life. He probably had. I screwed my eyes shut and waited not breathing until it stopped. Finally the jets switched off and the doors on the opposite side hissed open. Wesker moved out and I followed as we moved down another hallway that ran past several wire reinforced windows. I peered through them as we moved, noting that there were people in almost all of the rooms, working diligently at lab stations, writing notes or looking into microscopes. They were all clad in pristine white lab coats and surrounded by white walls and floors and I couldn't help but feel incredibly out of place. Someone pointed to me, leading the rest of the lab coated people to follow suit and they looked at me with a sense of inquiry or in some cases, pity or disgust even. I felt nausea creeping back on me, along with that uncomfortable feeling when you knew that people were talking about you behind your back. My counterpart ignored them and continued down past some more windows and shaft doors towards at the furthest end of the hall, right before an elevator, to a plain wooden door with a plaque on it that said, "Examination Room 001". He knocked to make sure no one else was present - although I doubt it mattered anyway, he would have made the occupants find another room I was sure - and opened the door to allow me in. He held it open the same way a doctor would for their patient and a sense of strange settled in my bones. He followed and shut the door before motioning me to sit on the table, picking up a clipboard and removing his sunglasses.

While he was reading I felt the need to allow my eyes to linger on him for a bit, studying the lines of his face. He had very few wrinkles like a man his age should have and no tinge of grey in his hair whatsoever. I noted that the very faint crow's feet at the edge of his eyes tended to crinkle a bit as he was reading, his mouth in that same thin line. He put the clipboard on the counter and removed his jacket, his sturdy but not bulky frame being somewhat hugged by his turtleneck. He had an impressive physique with broad shoulders and chest and a trim waist, and as much as I hated to admit it, he had an impeccable sense of taste.

Sure his wardrobe consisted of mostly black but his articles of clothing appeared as if he had never stepped into a Wal Mart once in his life. He probably paid full price on everything he purchased and never bought anything less than the likes of Armani and Hugo Boss. Even the faint scent of cologne on him smelled completely over priced but I'd be lying if it didn't smell good. It certainly wasn't Old Spice which would have been even more weird, seeing as it was what my father always preferred. His shoes were always shined perfectly and never one wrinkle was present on his clothes. It always made me feel out of place around him, my shopping tactics usually limited to cheap mall shops and the frequent discount store, even though I was currently dressing in the clothes he had purchased for me.

One night, out of a fit of extreme boredom, I sat in the closet and went through all of the dresses and clothes checking the labels to see the brands. Vera Wangs and Gucci were present amongst Yves Saint Laurents and Prada. I tried to find the most cheap looking articles of clothes I could find and wear those only.

I'd be damned if I let him dress me up in all of his money. He wasn't my sugar daddy.

Just the thought of that made me die a little inside.

Of course every article of clothing in that closet looked to be over priced, even the labels that looked as if they were bought at discounted department stores seemed as if they weren't under fifty or more bucks a piece.

And don't even get me started on those dresses. I found that most of them ran in dark shades of black and deep reds, as if to compliment his own wardrobe, something that almost appalled me. Just what was I going to need those for anyway? If he expected me to accompany him to some kind of party or event he could stuff it. He claimed it was preparation but something inside me told me that it was much much more than that.

Lost in my own world I didn't notice him coming towards me with a very large needle until he was right up on me. I snapped my head towards him and jerked away when his hand came up to grab my arm.

"What in god's name is that for?" I spat out, clearly off guard.

"Blood." He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The damn thing was huge and looked like it was used as a marinade injector for a turkey. How big did he think my veins were exactly?

"Why is it so big?" I asked abhorringly. He merely looked up at me and tilted his head.

"Miss Redfield, it's not big at all. Stop blowing things out of perspective and unfold your arm."

"No."

"Miss Redfield-" He warned, as if scolding a child. I was clearly irritating him by taking up so much of his precious time and I couldn't help but feel a pinch of pride at bothering him so much. Claire: One, Jackass: Zero. Still, it didn't help that he was holding the one thing that frightened me more than anything.

I hated needles.

I know, you'd figure that being inside the ins and outs of all of the incidents I had been in would have lessened the fear of them but it didn't. If anything it made it worse. And it was different when you weren't expecting it, like when he had snuck those sedatives on me. I hadn't had to sit there and watch it happening, I didn't have to watch as my blood was drained into multiple vials.

Ugh...

"We're wasting valuable time. Give me your arm and stay still, you don't want my hand to slip." He spoke sternly but I wouldn't budge. I knew he didn't want to have to wrestle me down and attempt a serious accident, such as tearing my vein open, but I just didn't want to do this.

"I'm afraid of needles!" I blurted out, feeling like the biggest idiot of all time. I felt and sounded more like a child. I really needed to buck up if I wanted to survive all of this with my sanity intact. I knew that something insulting was soon to come, so I turned my head down a bit. I heard him sigh.

"Just look away. I assure you it won't hurt badly." My confused look brought a smirk to his face. I hadn't been expecting reassurance and maybe that's why he had said that. He wanted me to trust him.

Like hell I would ever trust him.

I studied him cautiously a long while before huffing and unfolding my arm, my cheeks burning red with indignancy at myself, not to mention the sheer embarrassment. It was not wise to reveal that to him at all. Chris would have been so disappointed. He took my elbow in a sterile gloved hand and dabbed the inside of it with an alcohol swab. Instead of looking away I just looked up towards him, studying his face and the toned muscles of his neck. If I watched carefully, I could see the very faint and slow pulse on his throat. I felt a pinprick but other than wince I didn't pull away or make any outward movements. A few moments later he must have caught me staring at him.

"See something you like, Miss Redfield?" The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he worked from removing what seemed to be a gallon of my own blood judging by how long he was taking.

"Hardly," I huffed, "I'm just not looking at that."

"Oh? Am I not attractive enough?" He looked at me briefly for a moment to relish in the fact that his question had caught me completely off guard. Was he attempting to joke with me? This was getting more and more weird as time went on.

"You're not my type, trust me."

"The feeling is mutual, I can assure you." He made a small 'hm' noise after that and I felt a bit dejected although I had no idea why. The first thought that came to my mind was that essentially he was calling me ugly. I knew that wasn't the case and even if he didn't find me attractive I shouldn't care. Stupid Wesker with his...stupid face and his stupid...perfect body.

"Good." I huffed again, I had been huffing a lot I noticed. He had that effect on me I suppose.

"Good," He agreed, "There we go, all done. Was that so bad now, dear heart?"

God I hated that damn nickname. Or maybe I hated that I didn't really hate it as much as I wanted to. Either way there was some hatred, somewhere. I refused to answer him as he stuck a bandage on the pinprick wound. A part of me almost expected him to give me a lollipop. My head turned towards him as he collected what he had drawn from me and I knew it was a huge mistake. On the tray was six large tubes of blood. My blood.

I began to feel a little faint and I knew I needed to lie down, although I'd never tell him that. How was it that I could deal with B.O.W's and various other sick shit but I couldn't handle looking at that?

I am such a pussy.

After he deposited all of my (stolen) blood in a bin marked 'Biohazard' he left the room to deliver it to a lab I supposed leaving me there all alone. I sat for a moment, swinging my legs a bit and examining the plain room. There was a counter and a sink, a paper towel dispenser and a tube of foam hand sanitizer on the wall, and no windows.

He really needed a new interior decorator.

My eyes fell to the plain metal stool next to the table and the blue blazer he had left draped across it. Unable to cork my curiousity I picked it up and began rummaging through empty pockets. I was about to put it down when in some kind of strange, out of body moment, I raised it up to my nose and inhaled.

I could smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne among what smelled like...maybe coconuts? No that wasn't it. I thought I remembered the scent from a soap that I had seen once in a perfume shop but while it was close, it wasn't quite the same. I couldn't place it. I still can't even now. It was some distinct smell that from that moment always announced to me that he was near. It was something that was simply Wesker.

Simply Wesker. I snorted, it sounded like a perfume or cologne. I laughed a little louder as I had a vision of Wesker in one of those fancy underwear model type commercials. Soon I was giggling madly, holding my stomach and clutched over the edge of the table. I had dropped the jacket back onto the stool, still in the aftermath of booming laughter when he returned. He looked at me as if I was insane.

"What's so funny, dear heart?" At the sight of his face I lost it again, rolling over myself at his expression and the scent of Simply Wesker.

I'm not sure why I found it so funny.

"You-and the...ha ha!" I giggled some more, before breaking out into loud mirth again. I truly was going insane.

"Yes, well, perhaps we should be getting back to the house now. I have much work to do." He bent down to pick up his jacket but stopped and immediately I stopped laughing. It was as if he knew I had moved it.

Oh man. That's embarrassing.

If he did he didn't mention it, just picked it up with the slightest of smirks and allowed me to pass by him.

When I was safe alone in my room, I released a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

**[scream]**_ while theres silence  
>scream while theres <em>**[life] **_left  
><em>  
>...<p>

A week. I sighed forlornly, quite bored with doodling in a mostly full notebook and looking through "my" clothes for the sixth time in what felt like three hours.

No. No more! I stood up with a renewed sense of determination - or possibly another sign of insanity, who was counting? - and stormed out of my room. I was going to do something outside of this damn room. If Wesker thought I was going to be caged in there forever, oh, he had another thing coming. I was going to get my answers, I was going to find out what the hell he had been keeping me here for. If it got me hurt or injured so be it, I'd deal with it later.

This sounded much better at the time, with my adrenaline rushing through my body making me fearless. Of course once I bounded down the stairs and came face to chest with him in the living room my so called fearlessness simmered down to that of a kitten who thought it was a tiger until it was pitted against an actual tiger.

I nearly crashed head on with the object of my would-be inquisitions when a stabilizing and quick arm caught me mid collision. He straightened me before raising an eyebrow, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes.

"Would you like to inform me what you're doing flinging yourself down stairways? You could seriously bring yourself to harm, dear heart."

Even though I disliked that nickname I knew that him calling me that was somewhat a good sign. When he was irritated with me or anything in general he would refer to me as Miss Redfield. When he was teasing me with his infernal mockery or even in a generally decent mood I was 'dear heart'.

"I-I want to talk to you." I stammered out, getting a hold on myself after my clearly embarrassing mishap just now.

"We are talking." He stated matter-of-factly. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him, knowing somewhere by the twisting in my gut that this little discussion wouldn't end well. No need to poke the bear when you didn't have any fish...or something like that.

"I think it's time that you told me exactly what I am here for. I've been cooped up in this house like an animal and frankly I'm getting tired of it. I haven't tried to escape or hurt you and I'm pretty sure that all in all I've been a pretty good hostage. All I want are some answers." It stumbled out of my mouth faster than I could catch it and slow it down or even word it different but somehow I was proud of myself for conjuring up the courage in the face of such...adversity in the first place. I wanted to run back upstairs and deadbolt the doors - not that they had any - just to avoid this now however. I wanted to cringe or wince because I was sure he was going to hurt me. He hadn't yet though, hadn't even laid a hand on me.

"Miss Redfield," He started and I was just relieved he hadn't touched me yet but due to the tone of his voice I could tell that the resulting statement wouldn't be what I had wanted to hear. Of course I would argue and well...we all knew what was going to happen after that, "I very much doubt you would enjoy hearing the reasoning behind why I am need of you. Some things are better left to the unknown." He ended it with a tone of strict finality but I didn't back down, anger raising hell through my body and bringing my adrenaline back with a fierceness.

He moved to turn away but I latched onto his bare forearm, "No! Tell me what the hell you want from me, Wesker!"

Wrong move, Claire.

Before I could blink he was on me, a hand that could probably bring down a mountain in one punch wrapped around my throat. He had me dangling in the air about a good foot and slammed me into the wall behind me, not releasing me and bringing his face dangerously close to mine.

"Don't you think," He seethed malevolently as I squirmed and wiggled against his body in a way that at the same time frightened me and excited me, "that I have been more than lenient regarding the way you've been acting? You will not," He pulled me forward only to bash me into the wall hard, and I felt my self slipping away as I struggled for air, "under any circumstances proceed to treat me as if I am some little toy you can provoke and think that I will not retaliate. Do I make myself clear?" He released me and I fell into a crumpled heap beneath him, gasping and trying to force air to enter my lungs.

Once it did I know I should have agreed with him but anger that probably matched his prevented that, "That's what you're doing to me, you self righteous, arrogant son-of-bitch!"

With a snarl he rushed towards me, moving very quickly but somehow I managed to dodge him by a hair's width and made for the front door. It swung open as soon as I pulled the latch, I was almost surprised that it wasn't locked. I saw his eyes burning as he ran to catch me but I closed it quickly.

And then I ran, tears stinging my eyes from both the strangulation I had just endured and every one of the emotions I had been harboring in my state of being trapped in his lair. All of the anger, the loneliness, the anxiety poured out as I just ran forward, my current disheveled state preventing me from making the right choices in what I was doing. I had no idea where I was going, where I was, or what I was doing if I even managed to make it anywhere civilized with normal people. I didn't seem to think of that as I rushed forward, through the dense wooded landscape with a very sore throat and burning eyes, all I knew was that I needed to get away from _him._ It was all a lie, I told myself, the whole incident, the file, the antibodies in my blood. All just some ruse he could use to prod me around like a dumb cow, probably all for the gain of luring my brother into a trap. He wasn't trying to help me, he only wanted to benefit himself.

I ran for a long time before I felt my strength begin to fade away and I found myself stumbling when I heard him.

"Claire!" He roared throughout the trees, alarming several birds that evacuated their nests at the fear of some horrible predator. The fact that he had used my first name caused me to pick up my pace as quickly as I could muster. I ran faster than my body wanted to allow me, pushing myself well beyond my limits and I knew that I would wind up paying for it later. Much more dearly if -when, I knew I wasn't getting away- he caught me. The thought of how furious he was now pushed me on further and suddenly felt what appeared to be a second wind break through my body. I felt suddenly clear headed and strong, I felt different and better. It was as if my senses had heightened in my state of fear and anger; the darkness seemed much more visible, the sounds of the forest seemed much clearer, the icy wind on my face seemed stronger but also less hindering. My temperature began to heat up quickly and soon enough I could no longer feel the cold biting through my modest clothing. I didn't know if my skin was becoming numb or if it was adrenaline or what.

It felt so fucking good.

_it's hiding in the _**[dark] **_it's teeth are razor sharp  
>there's no <em>**[escape] **_for me it wants my soul it wants my heart_

...

I felt almost invincible and his voice had faded, blending with the methodical and precisely timed metronome of my pulse in my ears. I raced forward, speeding with the wind and never thought secondly of it. I was going so fast though I hadn't realized it at the time, thundering through the woods almost blind, even though I could see _everything. _I heard something thrumming deep within my body, a soothing pulse of tiny bits radiating throughout my body. It was like I was tune and on track with every molecule in my body, I was perfectly in sync with myself.

I was perfect.

I ran over a very large root sticking out of the ground but instead of stumbling over it like normal I gracefully pelted over it. I ran for what I assumed were hours but were mostly just minutes, breathing every scent in the forest with a renewed sense of life. I never thought I could ever feel this good, a supernatural high seizing control of me to the point where I was simply surrendering myself to my own body. My mind slipped into a stasis of subconcious and I felt like this was more of a dream than real life and my body moved without me willing it to. My skin felt like it was on fire, burning with a sensation that should have been painful but it was as if I was unaware of things I should have been drastically aware of.

I began to slip away inside of myself.

A cold and dark feeling began to rip at me, deeper than the burning in my skin, and I was trapped, a victim to my own body. Internally I felt like a baby in a womb but still aware of what was happening on the outside. I heard an inhuman growl in the distance and wanted to cry and run far away from it but instead I watched - as if sitting on the sidelines - as my body went on about it's own path. I stopped as if testing the air, when I caught sight of T-Virus infected dog. One of Wesker's guard creatures I supposed. It somewhat disturbed me that this thing was roaming around a forest at all more or less with free range but I paid no heed. The horribly mutated dog sprung from out of the trees lunged at me and instead of crouching down under it's arc I reached up and caught it mid air, taking it by the jaws with both hands.

I watched mortified as I ripped it directly down the middle, tearing it's deformed body straight down it's mouth to the middle of it's torso before tossing it aside with such ease that it was as if I had smushed a cockroach. My body was soaked in T-Virus festered blood and entrails but I seemed not to mind. I moved forward, but apparently decided to walk instead of running this time.

The problem with all of this was that I wasn't making any of these decisions, some unknown and frightening force seemed to take ahold of my body and while I was still mostly concious of the actions I could do nothing to stop it. I could feel whatever free thought I had left sinking down into this deep pit that had once been _my_ body. It didn't feel like mine anymore and I was beginning to waver on what seemed to be wakefulness and complete and utter deep sleep. My body moved fluidly through the woods, crushing any strange creature that dared step in it's way. It left a wake of spilled blood and shredded flesh behind it as it moved. A soft rustling came behind me and my body turned to face it. I could see him, fiery eyes glinting in the dim moonlight through the leafy canopy, his face scrunched up confusion and what almost looked like fear. He was never afraid, what could be so horrible that he would be afraid now? No, he wasn't afraid, just seemed to be mindful of something terrible he was witnessing. I wanted to scream out to him to help me and that I didn't care anymore what was what if he could just please make this all go away. I knew he had the power. I could do nothing, being rendered speechless to this other force. I found myself move towards him, and he was frozen, his eyebrows furrowing before stepping towards me as well. He only spoke one, rough word before I felt myself disappear completely.

"Alexia?"


	2. Act II

_**DISCLAIMER:: Look guys, I think we've been through this enough. I don't own RE you don't own RE. None of us do. Though I'm sure we wished we do. I HAVE AN IDEA! Let pool all of our monies together and buy it! Then we can all own it!**_

...

**Stigmata**

Act II

...

_hold on to _**[chance]**_  
>lest we <em>**[bleed] **_ourselves_

..._  
><em>

His eyes transfixed on her floating visage in the dim light of the panel next to the stasis tank. An eerie glow had surrounded her,with hair that was floating like a halo above her head and a strange shadow behind her gave her the impression of having wings. His eyebrow furrowed at the strange discoloration of her skin that was still present across her breasts and the apex of her thighs. The rest had faded back to it's normal creamy pale color. He gripped the clipboard tightly and by some unseen force he brought his hand to rest on the cold glass. He felt marginally better physically, the damage she had caused him - however surprising - had not been serious. His mental state was that of another matter. The discoloration faded even more and he wrote something down on his clipboard as his mind pondered all that had happened.

He had hunted her to the woods and when he saw her- the ethereal glow that surrounded her and the strange but alluring change in her features - he had felt strange. She had approached him, wordless, before placing one greenish hand upon his face. In his shock of what he was seeing he hadn't stopped her before it was too late. He could remember seeing things but he could never make them out. In one touch she had overpowered him, making him lose the will to fight and fusing into him something that he didn't understand and leaving him with the feeling of a million bugs crawling through his head. Soon the initial sting stopped and he felt a purely divine feeling flood him. It was unlike him to be this awe stricken by anything, but in the moment with the sheer orgasmic bolt of power she allowed to pass through her body into him he couldn't help but want to give in to her. In that moment he had fallen to his knees before her, with burning eyes and a desire to have her touch him even though he knew it was just a form of submission.

It seemed much like that of a queen ant.

The T-Veronica virus that he had thought to be dormant and unable to awaken again had seemingly done just that and in such a fierceness that her body had simply gone straight into mutation. At first he was taken aback, thinking her to be Alexia, but he knew that was not the case even if the resemblance was close. He could still see that her facial structure was mostly the same, her hair still auburn even if it was burning with a fiery red hue. Her mutation had not completed when he had found her and if he hadn't stopped it with a shot of the antivirus he had just synthesized hours before it would have probably been irreversible. Lucky for him he had it on his person; he was headed to deliver it to the lower labs when she had approached him in the house

Fortunately his own mental capacity was just enough to disrupt the flow of hormones and waves she was emitting. With a wailing scream she lashed out at him and as if her scream was a cue drew forth an entire army of black ants from beneath the ground to attack him. Fiercely crawling up his legs he had fought through them, despite the repetitive stings on his legs and arms that had him searing with pain. They were certainly not ordinary ants, the venom they produced seeming to slow the effectiveness of his own virus. He had latched onto her, throwing her to the ground, teeth bared as he pulled the syringe he had in the pocket of his coat and quickly thrust it into her neck. She was so strong...

She had screamed and attempted to tear at him but he held her down as her eyes had closed and the ants scurried back beneath the earth. As her convulsions stopped he scooped her up and rushed her back to the compound as fast as possible but the ant venom was still at work, this time trying to tear down his nervous system; the T-Virus in his own body managed to slow the toxin. Once he had reached the lab located on the third basement floor and put her in the tank he was nearly on his knees as the burning pain traveled up his body towards his head. He had collapsed not a few minutes after that, his head slapping the tile hard. When he finally came back to conciousness he pulled himself up and rummaged through the refrigerator for the other vial of antivirus and injected himself for good measure.

That had been hours ago and while he should be running tests and doing more blood work on both he and her, all he had done was stand slack still before her tank and just stare.

She had crawled her way into his head and may even still be there.

He knew he didn't feel the same, at the very least, he felt strange and out of place and he knew without a sliver of doubt that the game was irreparably changed if not damaged completely.

Perhaps he should have killed her? Perhaps, though he hadn't desired to. That thing he had fought before had not been Claire Redfield. It was a byproduct of the T-Veronica virus, a mutation she couldn't control. This wasn't something he had anticipated, although years of experience showed that viruses could be as dynamic as they could be static.

He could hear things, like incoherent whispers in his head and he hoped that the antivirus would be enough to flush his system of it. Something told him however, that this had nothing to do with the T-Veronica virus, or at least not the virus itself.

Only time would tell what she had really done to him.

...

_how can i _**[believe]**  
><em>when this <em>**[cloud] **_hangs over me  
>you're a part of me that i don't want to <em>**[see]**

...

I felt as if I was being suspended in some kind of fluid, warm and comfortable surrounding me on all sides. I inhaled deeply, the twang of pure oxygen filling my lungs as broken images played in my mind. I could see myself running away through the forest, tears dripping down my face and strange sounds echoing through the forests. I remember soon hearing him calling out to me which made me run all the more faster; I was running from him. I could remember the feeling of sticky liquid covering my hands and arms, splattering on my face and the shiver of pleasure I felt at the resounding crack of breaking something in my hands. I smelled the faintest tinge of copper in my nose, blood. It reeked of something else though I can't figure out what.

I let my body slacken in this fluid womb and I wondered briefly if I was drowning. I quickly dispelled that notion aware that if I was drowning I wouldn't be able to breathe. I wanted to open my eyes but they felt as heavy as lead on my face. I could hear the sounds of bubbles and a methodical tapping sound coming from outside of the fluid. Tap, tap, tap, stop, repeat. A tiny beep echoed throughout the water, expanding to my ears as I began to lose the warmth that had surrounded me. I tried opening my eyes again, this time with success and through the fluid I could see a figure standing below me. Blurs of white, black and tiny splotches of red filled my vision, surrounded by a greenish hue.

I tilted my head to the right to look at the dozens of various tubes and wires that ran the length of my arm, towards my chest, my legs, and my head.

Then it hit me like an oncoming train.

I was in a stasis tank, the one place I had feared more than anything I would end up in.

My mouth and eyes widened in silent horror as I reached over slowly and tried to untangle myself from the wires and tubes and pulled them off of me, the sting of an IV ripping through down my arm and out of my vein. Redness bled into the fluid with an alarming frequency and as I bucked wildly while the oxygen tube connected to my mouth and nose was dislodged.

I attempted to bang against the glass, trying to get the attention of the person who was in the room with me, but it seemed their back was turned. A loud series of frantic beeps sounded through the room and the tank and the person below snapped around and rushed towards the tank. Soon it began to drain, bloody fluid seeping away into the bottom, and the glass slid down. Feeling inconceivably dizzy and weak from whatever blood loss I had caused myself in my panic my vision blurred and I fell towards the floor, thick fluid lodged in my lungs and throat. I felt something hard and warm cradle me, disturbing my fall, and a firm push on my chest forced up all of that fluid with a hoarse cough and a sputter.

"Stupid girl." I heard a familiar voice very close to me and as I looked up I was met with the sight of black sunglasses and a pair of thin, stern lips pressed tightly together. Something warm was draped around me.

"Y-You...bastard..." I choked, but for some reason I was almost happy to see him, the fact that he hadn't kept me in that tank any longer was an utter relief.

"You could have killed yourself thrashing around like that." I felt myself being lifted as my eyes drifted shut lazily, too exhausted to say anything. I heard fat drops of something hitting the tile below me but I couldn't be bothered with it. My right arm was growing increasingly colder by the second however my eyes were once again heavy and my heartbeat was painfully slow but hard as I could feel it in my chest.

"Shit." I heard him curse. It was strange, I thought, that it was the first time I had heard him say anything like that. I felt bare fingers take my arm tightly, the heat burning into my cold, goosebumped flesh, and my arm was raised as I was laid down on a flat cold surface. Several stings spread through my arm making me wince but soon the pain from before faded and I exhaled with a sleepy, 'ahh'.

"You've lost quite a lot of blood, dear heart. Can you open your eyes?" His voice was softer than before and had a soothing quality I wasn't used to. My mouth tilted up and I smiled softly. Sleepiness was winning over quickly and his voice was starting to slur in my head.

"Mmmhmm." I sighed.

"Open them."

"Mmmhmmmmmm." I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right now, despite the uncomfortable table I was on and chilliness of my damp skin in the cold room.

"Claire, you have to open your eyes. I need you to stay with me right now. Do you understand?" Was that a hint of worry I heard in that normally cold voice? Nah, couldn't be.

Slowly but begrudgingly, I cracked one heavy eye open and moaned loudly as I saw the trail of blood on the tile below. I turned my head towards his voice and saw him hunched over with a needle, stitching my arm closed. His sunglasses were gone and his eyes were focused on his work, sweat had formed on his forehead was shining in the overhead light above. His hands were shaking.

"W-why...are you...shaking?" I managed to say, but my throat was sore and every syllable seemed to crack. For some reason all of my previous fear and anger from before when he had our fight was gone and in it's place was something that could only be pure exhaustion.

"It's nothing." He cut me off. I closed my eyes again as I felt a tug on my numb arm. The way he spoke left no room for arguement and really I didn't have the strength to argue.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" He asked, seeming the slightest bit surprised.

Honestly, no. I could remember tiny bits and pieces. Our fight, the woods, the blood. I could not remember what had happened to me to land me in a freaking tank. And speaking of which...

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I cried out, my anger from before pushing all of the sleepiness out of my body, "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow you." He looked at me, obviously done stitching my arm closed.

"Why was I in that...thing?" I was pretty pissed off now and what was even stranger was that he hadn't even berated me for yelling at him. And he was shaking and sweating pretty fiercely. He took a moment to answer, wiping my blood off of his arms before he spoke.

"You had an accident. It was for your protection."

"I don't remember any accident." I scoffed. Clearly there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Hm." He turned back and walked off in the direction of the tank, cleaning the blood off the floor with a towel. I tried to stand and confront him but apparently my legs weren't working and I pitched forward but this time caught myself on the metal table.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" I called after him. He didn't respond to me, just continued cleaning an already clean floor. What was wrong with him? I had never seen him act like this before, I mean I hadn't been around him long but..."Wesker?" I tried to move back towards the bed but my legs had me stuck there. At the mention of his name he froze stiffly but didn't turn.

"Yes?" His voice was uncharacteristically deep and hoarse. My eyebrow flew almost to my hairline. Man, he was acting weird.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I asked again, slower this time. Slowly he stood, still shaking slightly and spoke to the tank, although it was directed at me.

"Another time. I have business." Abruptly he dropped the towel and left the room, leaving me confused and just a bit shocked. Unable to do anything else I managed myself into a chair and wrapped the hospital bed sheet he had put on me tighter around my body.

There was definitely something going on that he wasn't telling me.

Of course I'd have to wait until he decided to come back around to try and confront him again. What was I supposed to do until then? I had no idea where in the house I was and I didn't quite feel up to the task of trying to find my room from here. Sighing I looked around for anything that would give me clues. All I could find was a discarded empty syringe on the floor and a strange moving black line coming right towards me.

Huh?

I bent down to inspect the moving line and found that it was what appeared to be ants. How had ants gotten into a safeguarded and high security lab? As they neared closer I froze but for some reason I felt as if I had nothing to fear from these insects. I never really had a fear of insects to begin with but even stranger was that I felt a small comfort in having them there. The line began crawling up my leg and I giggled as they tickled me even though I knew I should be freaked out considering if that many wound up biting me it wouldn't be good. They never did bite me though, just continued crawling up my leg and wound up stationary in my hand. With wide eyes I brought my hand to eyelevel and examined them more closely. They were just black ants and although a bit larger than most black ants I had seen there was nothing strange about their appearance. The only thing strange was their behaviour.

They were acting like tiny docile pets other than the little annoying insects they were.

I shook my head and bent down, placing my hand close to the floor, "Go on."

With wider eyes I watched as they marched right off my hand and back into the invisible crack they seemed to come from.

Soon after they had disappeared the door to the lab opened quietly and a woman with graying brown hair and a pair of glasses entered. I wasn't surprised to see that it wasn't Wesker considering he seemed to be quite keen on getting away from me before.

"Miss Redfield?" She asked and while seeming to be a bit stern in the way her hair was pulled into a severe bun and the way her white coat looked as if it had never seen a wrinkle in it's life, her voice held a maternal tone I picked up on immediately.

"Yes, ma'am." Always respect your elders, Claire. Unless of course they're batshit insane bioterror criminals.

"Dr. Wesker has asked me to take you back to your room. Are you feeling well?"

"My legs are a little shaky but I'm okay. Doctor..." I wanted to know her name, afterall she was the first person I had seen besides Wesker who had actually spoken to me in what felt like a dozen years.

"Marie Bardeau, dear. Would you like me to get a wheelchair?" Straight to business, although it was nice to be cared about for once even if she was getting paid to do it.

"Umm..." I tried standing and managed to get a to wobbly stand, "No, I can walk." I took a step forward and stumbled but her hand caught my upper arm. Damn weak legs.

"Here, lean on me. Are you hungry at all?" She asked as we walked from the laboratory and eventually past the doors I had thrown the mug at days before.

"Nope. Really I'm just fine, I don't want to take up your time. I can make it back to my room now." A small laugh came from the woman beside me as she slowly helped me up the stairs.

"Honey, you couldn't even stand on your own. Don't worry, you aren't taking up my time. Actually I've been kind of keen on seeing what this house looks like from the inside." Ha, she's warming up to me. I didn't care that she was employed by that whackoid, I just wanted someone to talk to.

"Really? You mean you've never been in here?"

"Oh no, I've had no reason to be. Doctor Wesker is a very private man. The scientists and employees have a different way of coming into the attached labs." I made a small 'hm' of recognition and when we reached my room I asked her if she could help me get a pair of pants on. I was sure I could have managed it myself but I just didn't want her leave. God I was so lonely. She agreed and we chatted for a few minutes before she said she had to leave to do some work downstairs. She left silently but mentioned before that it was nice to finally meet me, even if under odd circumstance. Before I could ask her what that meant she was gone and I was alone again.

I fell back onto my bed and crawled under the covers, trying to rack my brain as to what happened that had Wesker acting so weird. Due to the strain I had apparently suffered before waking up and the blood loss I had endured though I was hit with an extreme wave of exhaustion.

Before I knew it I was asleep again, my body feeling unnaturally cold even though I was wrapped tightly in my blanket and fire red eyes burned in my head.

...

_and i can _**[feel] **_it  
>won't <em>**[embrace] **_it  
>it's<em>** [overwhelming] **_how far you take it_

...

In the silence of underground he sat alone, in the dark extracting a vial of blood from his tourniquet wrapped arm. His sunglasses had long been discarded and he sighed in relief at the absence of light in his sensitive eyes. Oh how he wished the entire world were dark like this. He pulled the needle out slowly and dropped it into a special bin that sat different from the other needle bins. This one he never allowed to be touched by anyone but himself as it was only devoted to items that came in contact with his own body fluids. Walking over to the high powered microscope he caught sight of himself in the mirrored window that seperated this room from the one next to it. He looked mostly the same but he certainly felt strange, this only being exaggerated by having contact with her earlier. When she had called his name he could feel a pull to her and although she certainly hadn't been aware of it it felt like she was summoning him or something otherwise. He had managed to get away from her then but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever, his plan for the antibody having been changed drastically into now finding out what exactly she did to him. Peering into the microscope he could almost feel the same rush he had gotten when he had held her in his arms after her accident in the tank.

Just the thought of her made his skin burn and his heart speed up just a bit.

This was something that could not be tolerated, he was not some dog to be trained. It would _not_ be tolerated. He would just have to figure out what she had done to him and how to reverse it. As he watched the tiny T-Cells wiggling about in his blood however he could find no anomaly whatsoever. He let out the slightest of growls and disposed of the slide and turned off the microcope. He'd have to run some tests to see deeper. Perhaps it was in his brain? That was something that a simple MRI should detect.

For now though, he was feeling much more worn out than normal and decided that he'd take his weekly nap early this week and decided he'd feel better after some sleep. He locked the small personal lab behind him and noted that the entire facility was deserted. Checking his watch he saw that it was nearly four in the morning as he walked down the hall and through the decon showers. The sun hadn't risen yet and for that he was grateful; even if his personal quarters were completely blacked out it was as if his body could sense the difference between night and day and that would make it more difficult to fall asleep. He walked quietly up the winding stairwell, making sure not to wake the redhead who was undoubtedly still sleeping, and slipped into his room. In the darkness he wrenched the clothes from his body not bothering to fold them and put them away as he normally would and fell into his large bed rather ungracefully. He closed his eyes and began to drift off when he heard something coming from the room across the hall. He concentrated his ears to listen in closer when he clearly deduced that it was in fact Claire making some rather unorthodox sounds. Unwarned, he began to feel a tingle in his lower stomach, something that was completely unwelcome but at the same time felt rather...nice. As her noises picked up momentum he realized that she must have been asleep but her whimpers indicated that something was clearly running unbidden in the Redfield's sleeping head. A rather loud moan echoed in his ears and the tingle in his groin grew more obvious.

What in the hell was going on? His eyes widened as his breaths quickened along with hers and soon the tingle grew to a pleasurable throbbing, one that he hadn't felt in over a decade.

Claire was having some kind of wet dream and by some phenomena, no doubt due to earlier, his body was following along the same path.

"Fuck." He hissed, more out of the sheer pleasure than out of loathing for the disgusting lack of control he had lost for a moment. Of course he denied it was that at all. Her moaning continued and he had to fight the urge, one that shouldn't have been there at all, to rush into there and do unmentionable things he had never given thought to before. He felt his climax rising with her own as her voice grew in pitch and the intensity of the sensation had him digging into his sheets with white knuckles. He tried fervently to ignore it, to press it back down, to will every cell in his body to not let go but when her voice broke as what he was sure was his name falling from her lips his hips bucked up slightly as he was brought to an almost painful orgasm, his release spilling over his stomach. It was so intense that he had to bite his lip to keep from making any noises, drawing blood and his hands fisted into fabric that had ripped minutes ago. His body loosened slightly and as much as he wanted to run and wash himself off he did nothing but lay there, offended but still intrigued. How had that been possible? If she could do that to him...what else was her brain capable of? Did it only happen when she was asleep? Questions flooded him, the scientist in him more piqued than the disgust he felt but soon he felt his body relax in preparation for much needed sleep. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a discarded towel from his shower earlier that day to wipe himself off with then decided to put his underwear back on. _That _had taken an absurd amount of strength out of him and though he knew he should be angry that she was able to control his body like that, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. Another thing he hadn't felt in over a decade and he allowed himself to give into that at least.

Soon enough he was asleep, dreamless of course but not as tense as he usually was.

...

_i am in _**[misery]**_ there ain't nobody who can comfort me  
>why won't you<em> **[answer] **_me?  
>the <em>**[silence]**_ is slowly killin' me  
><em>...

Sitting on the toilet I waited for the water to heat up so I could finally shower. It felt like days had passed since I had actually been clean and when I sniffed myself this morning I was pretty disgusted. I stood carefully, knowing that my legs were still a bit unstable, and reached for the cabinet where I kept the towels. Faced with an empty cabinet I cursed loudly, knowing that I had to go on a search for a towel and had to put my clothes back on. I inwardly yelled at myself for not checking this before I got undressed and trudged along half dressed downstairs first to that bathroom. Literally I swear this man had bathrooms everywhere, so there _had_ to be a towel somewhere. However, the patron saint of towels, or whoever watched over terry cloth products, was not kind to me with that bathroom. No towels there either. I checked the bathroom closer to the kitchen and found none there as well.

"What the hell, Wesker?" I muttered underneath my breath as I made my way back upstairs, the water still running and resigning myself to drip dry city. I walked past his bedroom and froze.

He had a bathroom in there. A bathroom with towels. Towels I needed. Towels I could borrow.

He had towels, I think, would be the message I'm trying to convey here.

Raising an eyebrow I reached my hand out slowly to see if the door was even unlocked. I turned it all the way without pushing it open verifying that it was. I could have walked in, I mean it wasn't as if he would even be in there anyway. It was like twelve o' clock and Wesker, in the very rare instances he slept, was always in the labs before the buttcrack of dawn. So no harm if I just walk in there and take a towel right? Couldn't hurt.

I slowly step in and note that it's inconceivably dark in the middle of the day, something I should have expected. I search the wall for a light switch when I hear some rustling not five feet from me. In half a second I freeze and realize that I'm not as alone as I thought I was.

"What?" His voice echoed in the darkness still groggy from sleep and I raise my eyebrow as my fears of some guard licker or hunter being in his bedroom are dispelled.

"I didn't know you were still in here. I came to see if you had any towels I could borrow. You do realize it's like noon right?" I said, my voice strangely quiet and I'm not as weirded out as I should have been at being in the dark with a tyrant.

"Yes, Miss Redfield, I am quite aware as to what time it is." He gruffed at me and I rolled my eyes in the dark.

"Well, what are you doing in bed still?" Yeah I knew it was a risky move questioning his whereabouts but I had to admit I was a bit worried. What could have him feeling so crappy anyway? What happened to _god?_ Gods didn't sleep until noon.

"Perhaps," His voice deepened a bit and the sheets rustled as he turned over, "I wanted to sleep in, is that alright with you, Miss Redfield?"

Sarcastic bastard.

"Look, I was just trying to be nice. You don't have to be a jerk." He really didn't. Of course when did that stop him from doing anything?

"The towels are in the top left cabinet in the bathroom."

Mumbling something rude I'm sure he heard, I made my way to those precious towels, fumbling around in the dark like a blind person. I hit the corner of what I presumed to be a dresser with my foot and cursed, which in turn caused the man _still_ in bed to sigh loudly.

"Is it okay if I turn on a light? Unlike _you_, I can't see in complete blackness." Okay so that was more snarky than it needed to be but he deserved it. Jackass.

He didn't respond but in less than a few seconds the room was flooded with a dim light from next to him. I muttered a small 'thanks' and found his bathroom, the cabinet and then my towels before turning around to finally take my shower. The water was still running, I just hoped my drain hadn't clogged and the whole bathroom was flooded by now.

I really shouldn't have turned around.

There he was, laying across the bed on his side leaning on his elbow with those serpentine eyes fixed on me. The hardness of his chiseled body stood out contrastingly from the seeming softness of his bed which made it all the more obvious. His hair was ruffled a bit, a few strands falling into his eyes in a way that could only be sexy and he was clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs with no blankets covering him whatsoever.

I felt my mouth open a bit which he noticed and didn't even try to conceal the smirk on his face.

"Can I help you, dear heart?" Damn that smug bastard. It was a wonder he didn't have a mirror over his bed so he could just lie there and admire himself like the conceited douche he was. By some unseen force I had been rendered speechless for a moment when my eyes found that perfect hip chisel peeking out from under his waist band. I refused to look elsewhere, even though my body obviously wanted to, and I forced myself to meet his eyes.

"Thank you for the towels." I muttered and finally forced myself to leave the room.

"Is that all you needed?" He said to my back but instead of answering him I just walked out, hanging on to whatever dignity I had left.

Outside I hung my head, feeling like the most awful traitor.

It was bad enough to be living with him for the sake of my life but to actually apprise him as something sexual would be enough to have my brother disown me.

Okay so he wouldn't disown me but the sense of disappointment he'd feel would be great enough to make me feel like the lowest of the low.

It's because your hormonal, Claire, get a grip on yourself. You don't actually find him attractive like that do you?

"Ugh, god." I slapped my hands to my face as I walked down the hall, afraid to think about it just in case Chris and I had some kind of sibling telepathic bond. Yeah, it was that bad.

I needed a shower, then perhaps I could scrub myself of this problem. Yeah, a shower would do me good.

But of course...

The shower did me no good whatsoever. In fact it only made my problem worse. First I was afraid to take my clothes off with the illegitimate fear of being unclothed in the same house as he was. Once I conquered that I didn't want to even put my own hands on my body to wash myself because thoughts of _him_ kept me feeling hot and bothered everytime I touched my loofah. If those two weren't bad enough my mind kept wandering to what it would be like for him to shower with me.

I swear I almost threw up.

Okay so that was a bit of an exaggeration but what exactly was wrong with me to have me acting like that? Was I so immature that I couldn't even look at a half naked man without wanting him to do terrible things to me involving ice and a bucket of ice cream? I mean it wasn't as if I had never thought about it before, even when I wasn't living with him. I had dreams about this man before and not the kind you wake up from completely dry.

Of course this all stopped after Rockfort once I discovered exactly what kind of maniacal bastard he was and I had immediately felt better about it because it felt like I was betraying my brother the whole time. I suppose it was different now, and the reason I felt so crappy for it, because I was living with him now and he was like two doors down.

So to speak.

Not soon enough I had effectively cleaned myself and left the bathroom hurriedly, as if it was a dirty place I didn't need to be in anymore. I quickly tossed my clothes on and ran back to my bed, pulling the blanket over my head. I turned over and felt something damp touch my skin.

I moved quickly, throwing myself out like I had been burned by the sheets and pulled the blanket off to investigate. The wet spot on the bed was small and at first I was mortified that I had wet the bed last night. Upon sniffing it I was alerted to a smell that while kind of musky was not strong and ammonia scented.

Oh thank the heavens.

I looked up to the pillow and back down to the spot as if to figure out where it had come from and when I realized where my hand came fast to mouth to cover it.

"I had a wet dream." I muttered behind my hand in startled realization. I hadn't ever had a dream like that before and I was kind of offended. Don't get me wrong, I am no stranger to my own body and I masturbate regularly - or I did before all of this - like any other sexually active woman but the thought that I had had an orgasm in my sleep without my knowing was sort of weird.

With a sigh I placed my elbow on the edge of the bed and felt really strange in my own skin all of a sudden. Some really weird things had been going on since I had woken up in that tank not too long ago and I wished I knew what had caused all of it. I didn't though and I knew better to ask Wesker.

In fact I was pretty sure I'd be trying to avoid him even more lately than normal, especially with my revelation from earlier.

If I could see my own reflection I was quite sure my face would be red considering the temperature of my body had risen in response. I wondered what exactly caused me to have a dream like that. What had I been dreaming of?

I shook my head, maybe it was nothing. I watched a special on the Discovery Channel one time that said that wet dreams didn't always occur with an actual dream. I certainly didn't remember dreaming of anything last night. Not feeling like wasting anymore time thinking on something that was probably nothing, I got up to get a set of extra sheets from the closet and change out the ones on the bed. I dug through the linens on the shelf in the back for awhile, irritated that none seemed to be in there, before luck struck and I found a lone white sheet folded beneath four boxes.

I should have just grabbed the sheet and left but true to morbid Redfield curiosity my attention turned on the boxes. Three were unsealed and slightly open, filled with what appeared to be some dusty blouses and dresses but the forth was what really caught my eye. It looked older than the other ones and had a shipping label on the side that was worn but I could make out a few letters and numbers. It was taped up and sealed tight and looked as if it had never even been opened. Of course that wouldn't deter me because I had a knack of sticking my nose in places where it was sure to get dirty. I wanted to open that box but I didn't want to rip it in a way where it couldn't be closed again and that tape was at least three layers tight, so I went to the bathroom and grabbed a pair of cuticle scissors from the first aid kit under the sink. As I went back to the closet however a knock came at the door and I panicked like a kid who had been caught digging in their parent's closet. I dropped the scissors and kicked them under the bed and swung the closet closed quietly.

"Yes?" I called, trying not to sound guilty, the way my voice rose an octave certainly didn't help my cause. The door opened quickly as if the knocker had a problem with waiting the half a second that I had been covering my tracks. I already knew who it was, considering it was same person as it always was but I hadn't really expected him to look so...formal.

He was decked out in a black perfectly ironed suit complete with a crisp white oxford beneath and a matching black tie. His hair was perfect once again and the sunglasses were positioned on his face in a way that made them look surgically attached. Did he have a guide or diagram in his room on how to dress like a pompous asshole or did it just come naturally to him? He never failed to make me feel like a bum with all of his perfection. It had been almost refreshing to see him kind of disheveled this morning, of course I hadn't paid attention to that.

Yeah I was too busy paying attention to other things like his abs and his sex hair and his-

For God's sake, Claire, he's right there!

"Can I help you?" I said, a little too quickly than I had meant to but right now I was a bit swamped in my mortification at the fact that he had seen...that. He apparently took no outward notice of it and continued on his business.

"I have a meeting in an hour. I came to ask if you needed anything while I was out." He said it with such normalcy as if it was commonplace for him to ask if I needed him to pick stuff up on his way home. I was too floored by the surreality to even snark at him and instead I just came up with the absolute worst thing I could possibly say ever. Because I'm so damn smooth like that.

"I'moutoftampons." Don't even ask me why I said it, it just came out and besides due to the cramps I had been having, even though mild, I knew that it would be time for that fun time of the month to begin soon. The look on his face was pretty priceless though, I'll admit that. But what he said in response was quite what I hadn't been expecting. I'd been expecting a stiff and uncomfortable nod or a non-descript, 'mmmhmm' instead I got this:

"Do you have cramps?"

My eyebrow flew up to my hairline and my eye twitched. "...Yes." I couldn't believe he had just asked me that.

"Is there any...particular kind...you need?" I felt a huge bubble of insane laughter building in my gut. The thought of Wesker at the store buying a box of tampons, looking all holier-than-thou with an evil scowl threatening to knock some poor cashier's block off if they said anything to him made me want to roll around laughing. This had to be a dream, it really did.

"Uhh-no. Any kind is fine." My voice cracked from the impending laughter but internally I was noting that ever since I had woken up in that tank he had become increasingly even more weird around me. Before I could say anything in response he was gone faster than he came, leaving me alone with my weird thoughts again.

"Thank you..." I said to no one but myself and the walls.

...  
><em><br>no, it's much _**[better] **_to face these kinds of things with a sense of  
>poise and <em>**[rationality]**

...

The meeting had gone fairly well, all things considered but now he found himself faced with a task he'd rather not be doing. To think that the ever impenetrable Albert Wesker would be sitting in his black Mercedes with the windows rolled up in the parking lot of a supermarket, having some strange form of _sympathy period cramps_ of all things and pondering how to go about purchasing tampons.

He huffed loudly and got out of the car with all of the dignity he could manage, although lately his dignity was taking a plunge in the toilet. Last night had been abhorring, though it hadn't felt that way at the time. No it had felt quite nice actually and-

"Oh this is ridiculous." He snapped at the empty parking lot and pondering on whether it would just be easier if he killed the girl. If he was sharing her orgasms and her period cramps he decided it probably wouldn't do well if he did though and walked into the sliding doors of the store. What the hell was happening right now? He didn't buy tampons! He shouldn't have asked to begin with and honestly he wasn't sure why he did. He should have laughed at her and told her that she could have her menses on sandpaper for all he cared. Although true to her Redfield nature she probably just would have given him a dumb look at the word 'menses'. No, her brother would though, she would have thrown something at his head. For some reason that made him smile slightly until he remembered why he was in this backwater establishment to begin with. He couldn't justify why he had asked though, it just felt right at the time and _?_ He searched around, skulking about in a way that made an old lady back away from him with her cart full of wheat bread and Ensure in tow quickly. After what had seemed like an enternity stuck in the area next to the pharmacy an attendant approached him. He was dressed in the style of a typical wanna be gangster, all white and pasty with his work khakis nearly falling off of his ass and some really fake looking silver chain. His white boy accent shown through clear as a bell.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

"No." Wesker responded, feeling his eyebrow twitch immensely. That annoyance of a woman he lived with would pay for this later.

"You seem like you're lost."

"I'm _fine_." He said through teeth bared behind a closed mouth. As if he had been bitten the kid walked off, his shoulders slumped in typical teenager fashion and Wesker returned to searching for his offensive items. Finally he located the little sign above the aisle that read 'Feminine Hygeine' and he wanted to wince. He stood before a huge variety of feminine products before he took two in his hands and read the labels.

"Super absorbent? Extra absorbent? Extra-Super absorbent? How much could a woman possibly bleed?" An older woman beside him snickered and he sent a small glare at her through his sunglasses but she didn't see it.

"The wife send you out for girly products?" She said, still smiling and clutching her little hand basket tightly as she picked out a box of pantyliners.

"Hn." He responded, still reading over the labels. He wanted to scream at her that that annoyance was not, nor would she ever be, his wife. He didn't feel like making a scene tonight though. He just wanted to get this over with as fast as possible

"Ahh, well that would explain why you look like a fish out of water over here. How old is she?"

"23." His eyebrow twitched and while a part of him wished that this nosy lady would just go away he didn't see the point in being hostile.

"She'll probably appreciate these then," She removed a light purple box off the shelf and handed it to him. He took it and read the label. Regular absorbancy with a satin-glide applicator with petal tips. He didn't see the point in all of this complication with feminine hygeine products but women did have a tendency to be terribly complicated. That's why he mostly ignored them, "Are you two newlyweds?" She asked with a dreamy look in her eyes. Oh great, he would get one of those over-emotional women too. Now she was probably going to bore him to death with questions.

"Yes." He wanted to bang his head into the maxipads but he knew it would be pointless. The damn things were too soft. Might scare the lady off though.

"Well, it's good she has a man who's willing to pick up her tampons. You have a nice night, young man." She turned and walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Wesker behind with a slightly surprised look on his face. Young man? He couldn't help the tiny smirk as he made his way to the counter.

The girl behind the counter - she couldn't be much older than 16 - was standing there with her arms crossed and was popping her gum rudely. He grit his teeth together and placed the box on the conveyer belt. Her eyebrow raised and she smirked at him before she picked up the box and scanned it.

"That'll be three fifty," She said non-commitally in a voice that sounded far too valley-girl for this area of the country. He didn't have too much time to focus on how ridiculous teenagers these days were - that would be way too old-man of him anyhow - because as he was pulling out his wallet a terrible searing pain ran up his side. He winced and buckled slightly as he grabbed the bag hurriedly and threw the smallest bill he had - a twenty - near the register. He didn't stick around to collect the change and told her to keep it as he bound out of there. The pain came again, this time wrapping around his front and spreading up his back. He buckled down to one knee, hitting the pavement as he desperately tried to shake it off. His skin burned fiercely from his hip to his armpit and he wrenched his shirt up to reveal red tinged flesh, bubbling in some areas as if it was being cooked. Despite it's severity he knew that even something like this shouldn't be so painful to him and it was then that he knew that it really wasn't him who was injured.

It was Claire.

_**A/N: Well honestly I cut a part out of this, I was going to make it longer but I figured what the hell. I NEEDED to hurry up and update this so here it is. I'm not completely pleased with it but I'll probably fix it later. I did love the part with the supermarket AND SPEAKING OF WHICH! I have a hilarious -or at least I think so anyway- little drabble/one shot I'll post tomorrow after I finish tonight. I have been writing soooooo much...so many letters...so many...words...MY BRAIN! Lol. You kids know what to do!**_


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